C'est La Vie 01 - Probable Impossibility
by Rowan
Summary: Post-Hogwarts - Draco, Ginny, Harry, Hermione and Ron in a large country house. Harmless little short about this situation during the winter. I might put it into a series - if you like it. R/H, although they're at ends at the moment...


**C'est La Vie 01 – Probable Impossibility **

A/N : Harmless little short about some of my favourite characters post-Hogwarts. Will be continued into a series if you like it… Yes, I will continue Lux Et Umbra Vicissim, if anybody cares – just needed a break after the exams… 

Disclaimer : All characters belong to J. K. Rowling. 

There was a loud clang from the room next to Draco's, and he started violently in bed, clouds of sleep dispersing like frightened rabbits. He got out of bed, eyes heavy with sleep, staring around the room like someone playing Blind-Man's-Bluff. The air was dry and _freezing_. His clothes and the sweater hanging on the cupboard rail seemed the wrong size. It was long past seven. Perhaps someone would be getting breakfast. 

As he came fully awake, he began to feel slightly annoyed at the clang. Scratch that, _very_ annoyed. Rapping three times on the wall with the side of his palm just for the heck of it, he stalked out through the door and into the hallway. 

The smell of pancakes wafted up from the kitchen. Someone _was_ cooking breakfast. It was later than he thought… He went down the stairs, pointedly ignoring the creak from the door of his neighbouring room, and headed to the kitchen. Two people occupied the white-tiled room, which was full of the smell of pancakes now; one of them, a girl with red hair that stuck out every which way, was doing the cooking. 

''Morning, Ginny,' said Draco, sitting down next to Harry at the table. 

She lifted a hand, the one that wasn't holding two kitchen utensils. 'Do you want a pancake?' 

'I don't eat pancakes,' said Draco lazily. 'I sate myself on snails. The garden variety.' 

Harry rolled his eyes, eyes that were half-covered with messy black hair. Draco suspected he had woken up early just to sit in the kitchen with Ginny. There had so far been absolutely no tension between them at all – just the complacence of platonic love – but Draco sometimes wondered whether that was true. They certainly didn't go to such lengths as Hermione and Ron, who shared the room next to him. 

The two in question could be heard screaming at each other from the bedroom upstairs. 

Harry sighed and turned to Draco. 'They're at it again. Let me guess; they woke you up.' 

'Damn right,' said Draco. 'I wouldn't be surprised if there was a dent in Ron's head exactly the shape of an alarm clock, because I think my ears witnessed the incident. Actually, my ears have witnessed a lot, including some _very_ explicit making-up.' 

Harry grinned at him, pushing the hair out of his eyes. 'D'you want to exchange rooms or something?' 

'No, I already have all my things in my room, and besides, you wouldn't be next to your darling Ginny.' 

The girl bending over the pancakes flushed dark red. 

Harry punched him on the arm. 'Very funny.' Then, turning his head towards the source of the noise that was still rattling in their ears. 'Should I intervene?' 

'No,' said Draco, smirking. 'I rather enjoy this form of Weasley torture by proxy. Weekend entertainment.' He smoothed a hand over his pale hair, which had surprisingly not darkened in texture since kindergarten. 'Just as long as they come down by nine.' 

Harry blinked. 'It is nine.' 

'It is?' asked Draco, somewhat surprised. 'Oh well, one can't have twenty glasses of alcohol and expect to be button-shiny…' Harry stared at him until he realised Draco was joking. 

There was the sound of a door slamming, and a slender girl with wavy brown hair came storming down the stairs. Draco covered his eyes in mock-horror as she entered the kitchen, her eyes flashing, with a file in one hand. Harry and Ginny both looked up after shooting a reproachful glance at Draco. 

'I,' announced the brunette, sitting down on the chair opposite Harry, 'am going to personally kill Ron Weasley.' 

'Oh good,' said Draco, uncovering his eyes. 'She's not into the full name yet. When it comes to _Ronald Weasley_, Harry, do tell me. I need to dig a shelter. Was that clang something to do with you, Hermione?' 

Hermione scowled. 'No, it was the result of a large and heavy object _nearly_ colliding with Ron's head. Ginny, may I have a pancake too?' 

'As a matter of fact, they're ready,' piped the redhead, piling them onto numerous plates and setting the knives and forks on the side. 'If Ron doesn't come down in a few minutes his is going to be cold.' Setting the plates on the table, she headed up the stairs. 

Draco cut into his pancake, Ginny and Harry's idea of a perfect Saturday-morning breakfast. Spearing one slice on the end of his fork, he didn't bother to turn around when Ron, who looked very disgruntled, entered the kitchen. 

''Morning, Ron,' said Harry, patting the vacant chair on his right. 

Pointedly ignoring Hermione, whose head was turned away, he sat down. 'Thanks, Ginny. I could do with a little maple syrup.' 

'Me too,' chimed in Harry. 

Ginny poured a generous helping on both their plates. 'Draco? Hermione? Want any?' Then she looked at Draco's plate. '_Oh_.' 

'I know, I know,' said Draco, surveying his empty plate with relish. 'But your cooking's just so fantabulous.' 

'What?' asked Harry, with a small grin on his face. 'What did you just say?' 

'Nothing.' 

'He said,' uttered Hermione, 'that Ginny's cooking was fantabulous. Evidently his miniscule vocabulary is widening slowly. In the wrong direction.' 

'Libidinous swine,' muttered Draco, and got up to make himself some coffee. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Ginny yawned, not bothering to cover her mouth. The book that she had borrowed from Lavender Brown, who lived a few houses away with Seamus Finnegan, had turned out to be just another romance novel. 

The book was neatly plucked out of her hands. Startled, Ginny saw two sweater-clad arms resting on either side of her head. Draco was scrutinising the book, his pointed face quizzical. Impossibly fine white-blond hair fell down on either side of his face. 

'Probable Impossibility,' he read off the cover. 'Could our Ginny be turning to something intellectual for a change?' 

'Give it back, Draco,' hissed Ginny, and, to her horror, found herself blushing. 

He turned the book over. 'There's no blurb. Oh well, I'll just have to read a bit of it.' Without further ado he dropped onto the sofa the wrong way around and opened the book, legs dangling over the back. 

'Give it _back_.' Ginny gave his feet a shove. 'And the cushions have just been washed, so I don't want your feet up on them.' 

'_… she knew it was a probable impossibility for them ever to be together…_' Draco read, eyebrows raised, just the hint of a smirk on his face. '_… but she couldn't resist running her fingers down his chiselled jaw…_ Really, Ginny, it's winter. Romance comes in spring.' His hands played with her hair. 'Or are you just feeling lonely?' 

'Don't touch the hair,' snapped Ginny, grabbing the book. 'And this book is Lavender's – god knows she isn't lonely, what with Mr. Hormones-Rule-My-Life.' 

'Seamus?' Draco laughed. Ginny looked slightly disturbed. 'Maybe she's just cold. Like me.' He wrapped both his arms around his chest. 

'That explains the sweater,' said Ginny. 'I always thought you wore it so that you could act the gentleman and put it over girls.' A moment later she was smothered by an armful of grey cashmere. 

Removing the sweater, she promptly looped it around his neck. 'Pity. It's too soft to cause any _real_ harm.' 

'Ginny…' 

'Because if I pulled, maybe your windpipe would lessen in diameter.' 

'Ginny…' 

She took it off him. 'There. You're quite welcome.' 

Draco grinned. 'What will Harry say?' 

He was chased out of the living-room seconds later by quite a barrage of objects from the fruit bowl that stood on the table by the sofa. Sighing, Ginny resumed her perusal of the book, and Draco crept in to sit meekly by her feet on the hearth. 

'Am I forgiven?' he asked from somewhere near her ankles, and Ginny jumped. 

'No,' she said. 

'Let me at least attempt to entertain you,' he begged. 

She looked down at him, sweater and all. 'You and your band. Are you going to be singing anything for Christmas, perchance?' 

'Yes, as a matter of fact, I get to sing lead on Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree,' he said, getting up. 'Do you want a demonstration?' 

'No,' said Ginny hurriedly. 

There was a gentle pressure on the left of the cushion as he sat down next to her. 'You know,' he said, in a more serious tone than she'd heard for a while, 'I thought we might do something that we haven't done for a while.' 

'Like?' 

'Like… I don't know. Something we used to do in school.' 

'Draco, we didn't do _anything_ with you in school until sixth or seventh year.' 

He grinned. 'More's the pity. I mean, you used to pop chestnuts and play Exploding Snap and build card-houses and –' 

'_We_ used to, not you. But if you want I'll come and build a card-house with you. See if I can singe your eyebrows off.' 

Harry found them later, sitting at the dining table with a stack of cards in front of them. He sat down as well, looking at the first floor of the card-house. 'I didn't know you'd regressed.' 

Both looked up, laughing, and Draco let a card slip from his hand. The house promptly exploded into Harry's face. 

'Ow,' said Harry, feeling his singed eyebrows. 'Thanks a lot.' 

Shooting Draco a reproachful glance, Ginny lifted Harry's hair off his face. 'Oh, we're sorry,' she apologised. 'Is it very bad?' 

'No, just that I have no more eyebrows, that's all,' said Harry. 'Can I join you? I just had to get away from the lovers' quarrel.' He cocked his head towards the stairs. The sound of voices was floating down. 

'They've got it bad,' said Ginny sagely, placing a card upright against another. 

Noticing Draco's sweater as if for the first time, Harry stretched out a hand. 'Draco, why are you wearing that – thing? We _do _have central heating… come on, take it off. It makes you look thin.' 

'He _is_ thin,' said Ginny. 'And he looks nice in that sweater. Oops, did I say that out loud?' 

'I am extremely gratified,' said Draco, tugging it off, 'but I will not stand for looking thin.' 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Ron opened the door. There on the step in his winter clothes was Seamus Finnegan, grinning up at him. 

'Hello, Seamus,' he said a touch dejectedly, as he let his friend in. 'How's Lavender?' 

'She's fine,' said Seamus, sitting down in the living room. 'So how are you?' 

'Fine,' said Ron, still dejected. 'Had a horrendous fight with Hermione. She very nearly clocked me with a 'large, heavy object'.' 

Seamus grinned. 'Don't worry about it. Lavender and I have had worse.' 

'Like when?' 

'Like just when you had moved in, we fell out over something, I think it was Harry and Ginny and the fact that Draco had just moved in.' A puzzled look came over Seamus's face. 'Actually, I always wondered why you let him move in. I thought you all _hated_ him. He's the only Slytherin in here.' 

Ron twisted his arms and stretched, smiling ruefully. 'We became good friends, actually – he's a pain in the ass, but still, it's the only entertainment we get around here. Other than, of course, Harry singing in his sleep. Rather, the _tape_ I have of Harry singing in his sleep.' 

'Hermione doesn't object?' 

'Not really, not that I notice – they have minor friction, but nothing really happens. It's Ginny who really minded at the beginning, but now I'm really beginning to worry about her.' Ron shook his head. 

'D'you reckon she's still stuck on Harry?' asked Seamus. 

'I don't really know. I mean, sometimes she certainly acts like it, but –' He gave a small shiver. 'Sometimes it looks like she might almost be transferring her affections to the – the Ferret. The ferret who had an accident with baked beans the other day.' 

'Draco?' asked the ever-interested Seamus. 

'Yeah… who could blame her, he's what I'd call a lady-killer.' Ron looked so down-in-the-mouth that Seamus shook him gently. 

'Nonsense, old boy – there's nothing wrong with your little sister, and I'm sure things will sort themselves out with Hermione there. You have nothing to worry about.' Seamus took him by the hand, pulling him off the sofa. 'My sole intent was to cheer you up, actually – Lavender told me you were having a fight.' 

'How does _she_ know?' asked Ron in a horror-filled voice. 

'Grab your coat, and we'll grab a drink,' said Seamus firmly. 

A/N : Er – review? If you like it there's more coming; if you don't – er, there won't be more coming. :) Do you guys like Harry/Ginny or Draco/Ginny better? 


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